


The Silent Song

by poppyfields13



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-04
Updated: 2008-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-21 04:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppyfields13/pseuds/poppyfields13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cook is a hermit who lives as far away as possible from other people. David is living on the streets. When the villagers run the boy out of town, Cook takes him in. When he does this, Cook learns to live with someone else, and maybe even love someone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Silent Song

**Author's Note:**

> The characters within are only based on real people, this is purely fiction and I am not implying events within to be occurrences in real life.
> 
> Inspired by the book “The Raging Quiet” by Sherryl Jordan.

The year was 1700 and I was making the three day trip into the town of Rockybrook. I only went there about twice a year. Once before winter and once after. I avoided people as much as possible and lived in my small cabin alone. It was in the woods. Unlike the rest of the settlers of New England, I did not come to farm the land. I had plenty of money. I came because I wanted to get away from Britain.

At the end of the third day I rode into the town just as the sun was setting. I paid someone to keep my wagon and horse looked after and then went into the inn to spend the night. I got up early, got my horse and wagon and went to the general store. I preferred to spend the least amount of time in town as I possibly could. I bought enough supplies to last me six months or so. Probably more than I needed, actually. Earl, the overweight store owner helped me carry the things out to my wagon.

As I hopped into the wagon, ready to leave, I noticed a boy trudging across the street in front of me. He was being harassed by another group of boys. They were positively screeching at him, making all sorts of incoherent noises. They moved in front of him and made obscene faces and flapped their hands at him. When he didn’t raise his eyes from the ground they began to push him.

“Who’s that?” I asked Earl who was still leaning against the wagon, catching his breath from the exertion.

“Oh, that’s the Archuleta boy… He used to sing so beautifully,” he said wistfully.

I looked down. “And now he doesn’t?”

“No. Few months ago he got awfully sick. Everyone thought he was going to die. He got better but he lost his voice.”

I felt my chest constrict. Neal’s face flashed before my eyes. “That’s terrible,” I said quietly. “He’s lucky to have survived then.”

Earl shrugged. “Yeah, but after that he started living on the streets. No-one knows why, or what happened with his family. The Archuletas act like he never existed. The whole town does, really. There’s been talk that he has a demon inside him. That’s what took his voice away.”

“That’s preposterous!” I said.

Earl shrugged. “People have been talking about running the poor child out of town. I’m firmly against it, of course. And I know William Smith, who owns the saloon, is too. We both give him bits of food when we can. But once people get something into their heads, there’s not much you can do about it. It’s only a matter of time, I say.”

I turned my attention back to the boy and was just in time to see him pushed right into the mud. Instantly, I was back onto the ground and storming over to the cluster of bullies. “Get away from him!” I hollered. They all scattered. They were no doubt scared of me. The people of Rockybrook avoided me just as much as I avoided them and that was the way I liked it.

I leaned down and took hold of the boy’s arm, helping him onto his feet. He was trembling and his head was turned away from me. I don’t know why I did it but I placed my fingers underneath his chin and forced him to look into my eyes. I hadn’t noticed from a distance him being anything spectacular. But even looking at him with dirt covering his face, I could see that he was beautiful. His eyes were so expressive; I could see the terror and the pain, and also the curiosity. It was my turn to look away then because I didn’t want him to see inside me, which I got the feeling he had the ability to do.

I turned abruptly and walked back to my wagon. “See you in the spring,” I said gruffly to Earl. He nodded and tipped his hat. I rode away, and didn’t look back at the boy who I knew was watching me.

 

The weather turned after that. When I opened my cabin door one morning, the ground was covered in snow. I walked outside and breathed in the cold air. I loved the snow, because it seemed to bring such tranquillity to the world that I longed for. It was cold and isolating and suited my mood perfectly.

After I had eaten and dressed, I decided to go for a walk. The snow was soft but it wasn’t terribly deep so it wasn’t that difficult to walk in. I enjoyed the feel of the air stinging my cheeks.

I had only gotten a mile or so from my home when I noticed a dark shape protruding from the contrasting snow. At first I thought it was a stray bear cub but when I got closer I could see the shape was all wrong. It was a human figure. I moved closer to see if the figure was alive. When I did, I saw that it was the boy I had seen that day in town. The Archuleta boy.

I dropped to my knees and began shaking him furiously. He groaned and coughed. He was still alive. I wondered what on earth he was doing out there and if Earl’s prediction had come true. Awkwardly, I lifted him up by hooking one arm each under his knees and his arms. I ran all the way home, not sure where my strength came from, just knowing that I _had_ to save his life.

I threw the door of my house open and set him in front of the fire. I ran back and closed the door and then grabbed the blankets from my bed and placed them around his shoulders. His eyes were closed but he seemed to be a little more conscious. He was clutching at the blankets and rocking back and forth. I began warming up the fresh buckets of water I had in the house, and dragged the tub over to the fire.

He started to shiver violently and groan in pain, but I knew that was better than the semi-conscious state he was previously in. When the tub was filled with warm water, I dragged him to his feet and pulled the blankets away. I stripped him of his clothes, and helped lower him into the water. He cried out at the pain. He sat down and tears were streaming from his eyes. I grabbed a washcloth and began running the water all over his body. I made soothing sounds and rubbed his back with my free hand until his shivering and crying subsided.

As I ran my fingers down his back I couldn’t help but notice how smooth it was, and how it glowed in the firelight. He was so delicate and I had never been so gentle with another person before. Not even Neal.

I didn’t know what brought my feelings for Neal back at that moment. I had been running away from the pain of his death for many years. The boy wasn’t anything like Neal though. The boy was weak and helpless, Neal was strong. Well, he had been before he got sick. Maybe it was that he reminded me of Neal’s penchant for often giving street children money. I had always felt that it was a foolish thing to do, and yet I had loved him for it. I admired the selflessness and felt shame that I had never been able to do it too. Maybe now I had my chance.

I wanted to do something that would make Neal proud if he was watching me from above because I felt certain that had he been alive, he would have wanted to save this boy. Maybe if I had been as selfless as Neal had. Well, maybe God wouldn’t have taken him away from me.

I stood up, leaving the boy to sit in the warm water for a few more moments. I collected his clothes and took them outside. They didn’t smell all that pleasant. I decided they weren’t worth keeping. I wasn’t sure how to dispose of them; I didn’t want to start a fire outside just for some old clothes, so I grabbed the shovel that was leaning against the small stable where my horse lived and dug a hole to bury them. I thought maybe it wasn’t really about the clothes that much. It was a symbolic gesture. I was burying his old life. He was going to have a better one; I was going to make sure of that.

I went back inside and opened the drawers where I kept my clothes, selecting a shirt and pair of pants, as well as my spare pair of warm undergarments. I could make do with just one pair. I went over to the boy and helped him out of the tub. He seemed to have a fair idea of what was going on then because he stared at me with those big, open, scared eyes. And he bashfully tried to cover his nakedness with his hands.

“It’s alright,” I told him kindly. I dried his body carefully, eventually feeling him surrender to my gentle touch. Then I helped him into the clothes. I laid the blankets into a makeshift bed in front of the fire and took one of the pillows from my bed. I guided him to it and he lay down. I thought I heard him sigh a little as his head hit the pillow but I wasn’t sure. I laid the blankets over him.

Then I dragged the tub outside and dumped the dirty water. I also collected some more clean water for the house. When I came back inside, the boy was asleep.

 

I was dozing in my chair several hours later when I heard him stir. I watched as he stood up, his legs wobbling a bit and then he turned around and made his way to the door.

I was up in an instant, blocking his way. “Where are you going?” I demanded.

He flinched and made a gesture towards the door. He looked around for his shoes, which I had had to keep since I had no spares, and spotted them back by the fire. He walked over to them and put them on. I remained by the door. He walked back towards me and tried again to go outside but I stood in front of him. “You can’t leave, you’ll freeze. You’ll die,” I said.

His face turned red and he turned and pointed to the chamber pot that was poking out from underneath my bed.

“Oh,” I said, embarrassed. “Alright.” I moved out of his way but I watched him walk over to a tree and relieve himself from the doorway. Just in case he decided to flee. However, he walked back toward me when he was finished.

When we were both back inside, we stood facing each other. I didn’t know what to say. What do you say to somebody you know can’t respond? The boy lifted his hands and started to wave them around a bit. He pointed to me and then held his hands over his heart. He moved his mouth but it was so fast I couldn’t make sense of what he was trying to say. I screwed up my face and shook my head. I didn’t understand.

He stepped towards me and flapped his hands faster, I stepped back feeling a little afraid. Maybe he did have a demon inside him? His behaviour was so strange. I shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

He stomped his foot in frustration, which made me even more nervous. Was he going to lash out if I couldn’t understand him? He pointed to his mouth and began moving his lips slowly. I stared at them. They were full and pink. I watched intently as he repeated the words again and again.

“Oh!” I finally said. “Are you… are you saying thank you?”

He nodded his head excitedly and grinned. I grinned back, feeling just as excited. “You’re welcome,” I said. We stood grinning at each other until we were interrupted by a loud grumbling noise coming from the boy’s stomach. He clutched his arms over his torso and gave me a sheepish look. I laughed, “Would you like something to eat?”

He nodded again and followed me over to the cabinets where I kept the food and supplies. I told him to sit at the table and I brought out the loaf of bread I had baked the day before. He watched with hungry eyes as I cut an enormous chunk off and gave it to him. I cut a smaller slice for myself and then put the bread back. I brought out some jam and offered it to him but he shook his head. I sat opposite him, watching as he ate ravenously, and I barely touched my own food.

When he was finished he eyed my bread and I smiled, getting up to cut him some more. It was lucky I always bought way more flour than I needed if I was going to be feeding both of us over the winter. I made us tea and we sat and sipped it slowly. Suddenly, I had an idea, “Oh! Can you write?” I asked, already standing up to get some paper from my desk. When I turned around he was smiling at me sadly and shaking his head.

“Oh,” I said, disappointed. “Well… I’ll just leave this out. You can use it to draw pictures, maybe?” It was strange that after avoiding any human contact for so long I would suddenly give anything to be able to communicate with him.

He nodded. I sat back down opposite him. “My name is David Cook,” I told him.

The boy’s eyes lit up and he began pointing at himself vigorously. He was mouthing something again. Words I couldn’t decipher. He tried to do it very slowly again, but no matter how hard I concentrated on his lips I just couldn’t pick up on what he was saying.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” I said sadly. His hands dropped and he sighed dejectedly. I felt terrible. Like I was letting him down. I tried to make it up to him somehow. “But I know your name is Archuleta, right?… how bout I call you… Archie?”

He made a funny face, but then he shrugged and nodded. All afternoon I asked him questions he could answer either by shaking or nodding his head. It was hard to get any real information from him, but I did find out that he was run out of town, just as Earl said he would be. And that he was seventeen years old.

In the end it ended up as a silly game where I would just ask him ridiculous questions and I would make him choose between ‘yes’ and ‘no’ even when neither option was preferable. It was odd to see him throw his head back in mirth and yet no sound escaped his lips.

After we had exhausted that game, I brought out one of my books and read to him. When he started yawning, I closed the book and told him to get some sleep. He nodded his head thankfully and I watched as he stiffly made his way over to his pile of blankets and sank heavily into them. I quickly washed up and made my way to my own bed. I took my clothes off but left my undergarments on. I pulled out a spare blanket from my drawers and placed it on my bed and huddled underneath.

I watched the form of Archie, his even breathing causing his side to rise up and down with the rhythm of sleep. I watched until my eyes drooped and I was asleep as well.

 

I awoke sometime during the night. The room was dark and cold, the fire had gone out. I looked over to Archie’s form and this time I could see it by the moonlight streaming though the window. He was trembling with cold. I shivered myself, one blanket was not enough. I raised my head. “Archie,” I croaked out. He jumped a little and turned to look in my direction. “Come over here,” I whispered.

Slowly he stood up. “Bring the blankets,” I said. He gathered up the blankets and the pillow and made his way over. I sat up and he handed me the blankets. I awkwardly placed them over my body then I moved over a bit and pulled them back to allow Archie under. He crawled in eagerly and I could feel him shaking next to me.

He curled up into a ball, facing me. I did the same, and our faces were extremely close together. I smiled reassuringly at him and he gave me a weak smile in return. His breath was warm against my face and in the moonlight I could see the puffs of it in the cold air.

“Turn around,” I told him. He obeyed and I pulled his body close to mine, his back pressing against my chest. My arm was across his chest and I rubbed it up and down, trying to warm him.

The last person I had had held like that was Neal. But Archie’s body, of course, felt nothing like Neal’s. I tried to pretend it was him but I couldn’t. The size, the smell… it was too different.

But it didn’t stop me from falling into one of the most contented sleeps I’d had in years.

 

When the sun was out I crawled over his slumbering body, pulling one of the blankets with me to wrap around my shoulders, and I started the fire again. When it was roaring into life I turned around to find him watching me. “Did you sleep well?” I asked and he nodded his head and smiled, pulling the blankets up closer to his chin.

I made tea and toast but when Archie moved to get up I told him to stay in bed. I carried everything over on a tray. Then I placed it on the table beside the bed and crawled back under the blankets. He sat up and we put the tray across his knees. As he bit into his toast and I sipped my tea, he turned to look at me. His eyes were shiny and bright, I wondered when the last time was when anyone had done something nice for him, had treated him like a normal human being. He looked so innocent, and so very fragile. I couldn’t understand how anyone could treat him so badly.

We spent the rest of the day huddled under the covers, creating a warm cocoon with our bodies. I read to him more of the book I had started the day before. I lay on my back, holding the book above me and he lay on his side, staring at my profile as I talked. My voice began to hurt a bit after a while; I hadn’t talked so much in years. It was a choice for me not to, and the boy lying next to me had had that choice taken from him. It wasn’t fair.

I lay the book down beside me and turned to face Archie. He was looking at me with such adoration, that I knew I didn’t deserve. But what made me feel so uncomfortable was that Neal was the only other person who had ever looked at me the same way.

I pulled myself away from the heat of the bed. “I have to go and see my horse,” I told him. He pushed the blankets away and moved to get up as well. “No, you should stay inside,” I said. He shook his head and went to put his shoes on. Then he wrapped a blanket around himself and stood, waiting for me to lead the way. I sighed and opened the door. It was snowing lightly. When I made it to the stable I turned to see that Archie hadn’t followed me but was standing in between the house and the stable, his tongue stuck out as he tried to catch snowflakes. I couldn’t help but smile.

I called out to him and he came running, with a big grin on his face. It amazed me that after all that had happened to him; he smiled so much, even at the simplest things. We went inside the shed and I set about making sure Midnight, my horse, had enough food and water. Archie walked straight over to the creature and began stroking her mane. I practically had to pry him away from her when I was ready to go back.

It was almost dark then so we decided to eat and then go back to bed. It was harder for me to fall asleep that night because I could feel Archie staring at me. I kept thinking about Neal and I was feeling an odd sense of guilt. This feeling only increased when Archie put his arm around my waist and nuzzled into my chest.

 

I was haunted by dreams where Neal, Archie and I were on a ship. They were fighting, except instead of yelling, they were both just flapping their hands around crazily. Then when I tried to intervene I accidentally got knocked off the side of the boat.

Then I woke up.

Although it was still very, very early I quietly rose from the bed and went outside to see Midnight. I stayed out there until the sun was well up and Archie came out looking for me. He grinned when he poked his head through the door and bounded over to give Midnight a pat.

It was then, when I saw his face, filled with so much joy that I felt I wanted to kiss him so badly. I realised then that that was why I felt so guilty. I didn’t think I would ever want to kiss anyone but Neal. I felt like I was betraying him. “Let’s go back inside,” I said gruffly and Archie’s face fell a little.

It broke my heart and I wondered if this was what Neal would have wanted. I knew deep down that he would have wanted me to be happy. When I had sat beside him, holding his hand, both of us knowing he was about to leave me, he said he didn’t want me to forget him, but he didn’t want that to mean I wouldn’t let myself love someone else either. I had told him that would never happen and he had said I didn’t know that. And then he died.

I really didn’t think I could love anyone else. But with Archie, it suddenly didn’t seem so impossible. I just wasn’t sure if I was ready to let Neal go.

 

I wished I knew his first name. His real name. Every time I called him Archie his response wasn’t instant. And he looked pained. I knew he wished he could tell me his real name as well.

We were sitting at the table when I said, “I wish I knew your name.” He nodded, moving his hands. I knew he meant ‘me too.’ I sighed. “Maybe, if I just go though all the names I know of?”

He raised an eyebrow and I took a deep breath, “Um… Adam? Aaron… um.”

He held up his hand, shaking his head and I stopped. “I’m sorry,” was all I could think of to say. He held his hands, palms upwards and shrugged.

We sat, staring into the fire and then I almost spilt my tea over my hand when he slammed his fist onto the table. He stood up and rushed over to my desk. He grabbed the paper I had left out and then rummaged around for ink. He came back and dipped the quill into the black bottle but did not start drawing straight away. He just sat very still for a moment, lost in thought.

Then he sort of shook himself and placed the quill to the paper. He drew a rough picture of a chair, and then another chair beside it. He pointed to his chair for emphasis. “Chair?” I asked, screwing up my nose in confusion. He nodded, and then he drew a stick figure and pointed to me and another stick figure and pointed to himself.

I didn’t know what he was trying to say. “I’m sorry, I still don’t understand,” I said wretchedly. He leaned forward and buried his face in his arms in frustration. “I’m sorry,” I said again. “I can understand some things… but this I just can’t.”

He raised his head and looked at me sternly. He stood up and walked over to me, and then he pushed me so that I almost fell out of my chair. I stood up and watched curiously as he dragged my chair over to sit next to his. He pointed to them both angrily and stared at me, trying to force me to see what he was seeing. “Two?” I asked hesitantly. He stomped his foot.

He walked over to the cabinet and took out two plates and two cups and then he placed them on the table. He pointed to them and mouthed something. I shut my eyes and tried to think. Tried to stop worrying and just clear my head. When I opened them again he was watching me eagerly. I looked from the cups to the plates to the chairs. “Um… the same?” I asked.

He nodded his head excitedly and walked around the table to stand in front of me. He picked up the piece of paper and pointed to the stick figures.

“Same… we’re the same?” I asked. He nodded, his eyes popping, knowing I was on the verge of understanding. “Wait… are you saying… is your name David too?”

He jumped up and clapped his hands. Then he jumped and skipped around the room and I watched and laughed happily. I was so incredibly pleased and relieved that I finally knew his name. And that we had the _same_ name.

David came back to me and nodded his head again, he grabbed one of my hands with his own and the other he used to gesture to me and then himself. I squeezed his hand and pulled him towards me. Finding out we had the same name, it was like a sign. It was telling me it was alright to feel for him the way I did.

I wrapped my free hand around his waist, holding him close, and then I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his. He went still and I pulled away to watch his reaction, hoping it was the reaction I wanted. And it was because slowly a smile spread across his face.

Timidly, he placed a soft kiss to my cheek, then to my other cheek. To my nose and then my lips. I kissed him back, slowly deepening it by first sucking at his lips and then running my tongue between them until he let me in. He clutched onto my back, holding me as close as possible as we explored each others mouths.

That night, we lay in bed and kissed until we fell asleep.

 

I sat in my chair and David sat curled up in my lap, listening as I read to him. “Slowly and quietly he pulled his sword out –” David’s hands flew up and he covered his face. I laughed and pulled his hands toward me, kissing his knuckles. “It’s just a story,” I said.

He pulled his hands back and started waving them around, and the expression on his face was worried. I sighed and pulled him close. “I don’t want him to die either,” I said. “But sometimes when bad things happen, it opens the door for other new things. Good things.”

He stared into my eyes, with those big earnest orbs, waiting for me to continue. “I never would have met you,” I whispered. He tilted my chin up with his fingers, smiled and leaned forward, pressing his lips delicately to mine.

 _And I wouldn’t have met you._

 

Neal had been the last person I made love with, the only person. David was so, so different from Neal. But there were still similarities. They both treated my body reverently. The way David touched me, every inch of me, and the way he watched his fingers dance across my pale skin, with awe. It made me remember.

It brought tears to my eyes and I had to pull away from his naked body. I didn’t want to think about Neal when I was with David, it wouldn’t be right, because I loved David just the way he was. But I didn’t want to forget Neal either. I could never forget him. I wasn’t trying to replace him.

David placed his hand on my cheek and wiped away my tears with his thumb. He leaned forward and gently kissed my eyes. I had never told him about Neal, or why I came to America, but it seemed like he somehow understood. He picked up my hand and placed it over his heart and then he placed his hand over my heart. He couldn’t say it, but I knew he was telling me he loved me.

 

I stared down at him from my wagon and watched intently as he flapped his hands and moved his lips. I rolled my eyes exaggeratedly. “ _No_ , David, I won’t forget your strawberry jam. I know you don’t like raspberries.”

He beamed up at me and flapped his hands some more. _I’ll miss you._

“I’ll miss you, too,” I said. “I already miss you. I’ll be home soon, I promise.” And then I jumped back down for one final kiss.

 

No-one in Rockybrook ever found out what happened to David Archuleta, but every time I went into the village for supplies, Earl would raise his eyebrows at the huge extra bag of flour I would buy, and the different sized shoes and shirts. “So, how are _things_?” he would ask me.

I would smirk and say, “ _Things_ are great, thank you.” And we would laugh.

And they were great, for the rest of our lives.

**Author's Note:**

> So, in case anyone is wondering why Cook didn’t teach Archie to read, I was actually going to put something of the sort into the story but then I decided not too. The reason for this is I felt that if I did that it would have detracted from the fact that they developed their own special form of communication. It’s possible he still did teach him to read and write later in their relationship though.


End file.
